


Always a Lady

by st_aurafina



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inara will never forget the requirements of polite society, but she will determine the degree to which she shows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prozacpark, for Lyssie's hand-kissing challenge, 2011.

The ramp drops down, and a wedge of brilliant sunlight fills the dark of the hold. It's dazzling; for a moment, Inara is blinded and her step falters at the top of the ramp. Training makes her turn the pause into a _pause_ ; the kind you make at the top of the stairs, to gather your composure as the spotlights wash over you before you descend into the milling, glittering crowd. As she stands waiting for her eyes to adjust to the brightness, a hand scoops up hers: just the right height, just the right grip. It's Simon, standing beside her as if he were her escort. Inara, trained to observe body language, feels the way his posture settles into familiar patterns; close but not too close, upright but not rigid, the artefact of years of training, partnering peoples' daughters to the opera, to gala balls. He even has his arm tucked neatly at the small of his back. They move easily and gracefully down the dusty ramp, and Simon hands her down to solid ground with aplomb. It's all so intuitive, patterns of behaviour that will never be forgotten; Inara is not surprised when Simon bows low over her hand and brushes her knuckles with his lips. In the world from which they both came, she would be wearing satin gloves, and his lips would not be chapped from Serenity's cheap humidifiers, but the moment holds. They smile at each other, both caught in memories of the Core World life they have left behind. Then Inara hears Mal's boots clank across the hold, and River wanders down the ramp, singing to a chicken cradled in her arms. The world reverts to the life they have chosen for themselves: self-determination instead of rigid etiquette, steel plate decking instead of parquetry floors. They smile, and separate to go about the business of the day.


End file.
